


A Drinking Man

by Scarabskin



Series: Red Rising Kinktober 2019 [11]
Category: Red Rising Series - Pierce Brown
Genre: Clothed Sex, Clothing Kink, Coming In Pants, Dry Humping, Facials, Kinktober 2019, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 16:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20978786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarabskin/pseuds/Scarabskin
Summary: Tactus can’t stop staring, so Roque confronts him.





	A Drinking Man

It had taken Tactus all of his power to not pounce Roque the moment he walked into the room. Had it not been for the excessive amount of people around them, he might just have failed to hold back. 

The dark suit hugged his form tightly, exaggerating his lithe and beautiful form. The accented golden details shimmered in the low light of the ball, diverting attention from the crowd to the beautiful creature now entering. Or maybe Tactus just had tunnel vision for the man, maybe he wasn’t the prettiest person to exist. 

Maybe the high cheekbones and skinny neck made him look frail like a pink, ungold-like. Perhaps his long hair tied up in a tight ponytail made him look less like a warrior and more like a scholar. Maybe Tactus didn’t care, because Roque was walking across the floor, beelining for him and all he had done for the past seconds had been staring. 

His straight hair flowed behind him, shining in the light like hay on a summer’s field. His eyes were as gentle as they be, Roque never known for emotional outbursts like his own. His pulse quickened when he came close, Tactus downing the drink in his hand to wish for some numbing. 

“A drinking man is someone wanting to forget he is still young and believing” Tactus let out a heavy sigh and placed the crystal glass to the table next to him. Roque had criticised his substance abuse many times, always coming up with flowery ways to hide his worry for the man in front of him, for the future he was setting himself up for. 

The evening continued as expected. People made conversations, Tactus avoided it like the plague. He numbed himself like a professional at his work, just enough to be pleasantly buzzed and able to hold a conversation about nothing, yet not overdoing it to worry others. 

Not that he had any interests in what he was hearing or saying, his brain constantly dropping the reigns for his dick to pick them up. His eyes kept creeping back to the Poet’s body. He had seen him in suits many times, yet he never seemed able to control how the sight affected him. 

The outfit emphasised his height, his narrow shoulders and made his legs look long and slim. Jove have mercy on Tactus, because the mere thought of those legs wrapping around his neck as he left trails of kisses and hickeys on them had his pants stirring. 

The tight fabric of Roque’s pants hugged his arse deliciously. Every shift of his hips showed up, making Tactus dizzy. How could such a pretty gold exist? It had to be some cosmic prank played on him. 

Those golden eyes locked with his, a shy smile crinkling up his face as he took time to excuse himself from whoever the man he was speaking to was. Tactus had held a conversation with him as well, not bothered to keep the name available. Suddenly Roque was approaching him again, making Tactus panic inwardly once again. The irony of closely watching Roque for hours only to be unable to figure out that he was going to confront him did not fly past him. It rather hit him in the face. 

He must be drunker than he thought. 

“You might just bore a hole through me, Goodman.” His voice as gentle as ever sent shivers down Tactus’ spine. You could have dipped his body in honey and yet i wouldn’t be as sweet as this. 

“Wouldn’t mind that,” Tactus sighed, the innuendo escaping him before he had time to filter it. Not that he normally did. He leaned his body against the wall, suddenly happy he did so when his sight wobbled and his head spun.

“Perhaps you should go home.” 

“Then you should come with me, _Goodman_.”

So he did. 

Snagging one last drink as they passed the bar, Tactus more or less threw it down his throat before he made a gracious exit. Or at least graciously compared to how disoriented he currently was. Roque followed beside him, their shoulders touching as if to silently tell Tactus that he was there to support him would the need come. 

“I’m pretty sure I ruined at least someone’s night,” Tactus slurred. He chuckled for a second and kept walking, feeling the eyes of his friend dig into him. 

“That is one of the disadvantages of wine; it makes a man mistake words for thoughts.”

“It wasn’t wine in that glass.”

“At night, all cats are grey.”

Shaking his head, Tactus deemed himself too drunk to bother. They kept on walking in silence until they arrived at Tactus’ room, a large and well decorated bedroom for the night’s stay. Roque followed him in, helping him sit down on the bed. 

“You look so good in that.” Tactus motioned vaguely at his outfit, a content smile across his face. Roque smiled back, straightening himself out. Tactus patted the place beside him, prompting his friend to sit down beside him. And so he did. 

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off you tonight,” Tactus whispered, his words slightly slurred but not hard to hear. He planted one hand on the sheets behind Roque, leaning over to rest his face close to the other’s. 

His breath huffed out over Roque’s neck, him commenting on the alcohol content in the mere air he was breathing. Tactus chuckled, his tongue playing along the sharp jawline, slowly snaking up to nibble at his ear.

“Could barely hold myself back in there, Roque...” Tactus whined, thinking back to how hard he steeled himself to manage. 

“Lust is the craving for salt of a man who is dying of thirst” Roque smiled, one of his hands coming to hold around Tactus’ waist, pulling him closer. 

“Then let me die.” 

Tactus let out a growl low in his chest as he moved to straddle Roque’s hips. He smashed their lips together, hungrily making out with the man as if it was the last meal he would get. Wasn’t he accustomed to alcohol, one seeing his intake could have thought this would be his last. 

His tongue made a quick entrance, licking the inside of the mouth and coaxing the other tongue to follow along. It was like a dance, like fencing. Roque always seemed to like that. Both of Roque’s hands had landed on his hips, holding him close to himself. 

Moaning and letting up the kissing, Tactus took in a deep breath. His head spun faster now, the last drink hitting and lust clouding his brain. Seeing the other in front of him made him weak, the composed face, perfect hair and untouched clothes showing pure self-control to Tactus. He was a pixie, indulging himself in whatever he felt like, but Roque wasn’t. And the thought made him hard. 

Tactus loosened his tie and popped a few buttons on his shirt, letting himself finally take lungfuls of air for the first time in the night. He looked down, his erection straining the front of his pants. Without further use of his brain, he ground down against Roque, the friction sweet and intoxicating. 

A moan above him and the firm feeling against his own cock confirmed that Roque too was getting worked up. Looking up, he once again smacked their mouths together, practically eating the other’s face as he kept grinding himself onto the other’s crotch, hands on his hips helping him along. 

Tactus’ arms flung around the other’s shoulders, moving along with his own administrations sitting on Roque’s lap. He kept losing track of his movements, sometimes mouthing over the cheek rather than the lips, sometimes forgetting to thrust himself into the sweet oblivion the friction provided. 

Whining loudly into Roque’s mouth, he felt himself come close to the edge. Roque held him firmly as he thrusted up against him, determined to catch up with the other to some degree. Freeing himself from the kiss, Tactus threw his head back as he kept moving, his knees aching ever so slightly from kneeling on the bed. 

Tightening up, Tactus arched his back as he fell over the edge, one hard thrust against him finishing off his pursuit. He panted heavily as he kept bouncing on the other’s thighs, riding out his high as a dark spot formed at his crotch, growing larger by the moment. 

Roque moaned, his hands pushing him off his lap and helping him down to the floor. A set of fingers gripped Tactus’ short hair, holding it hard as the other fished up his erection from his pants. With fast motions, he jacked himself off, groaning as he came, painting the face between his legs white with his come. 

Tactus’ pupils were blown up, him panting as he sunk to the floor and tried to regain his balance. He was a wreck. Hair askew, face messy, drunk off his arse on the floor, shirt crinkled and halfway off as his pants were slick with his spend. And when he looked up from himself, he saw Roque panting. 

The other had barely broken a sweat, looking as respectable as ever with his hair in a perfect knot high up on his head, clothes still looking newly ironed and pants once again buttoned up to hide what had just gone down. Had he not been covered from mouth to eyes with come, someone could have easily thought they hadn’t even touched one another. 

And once again did it do nothing but turn him on. Alcohol stopping him from getting hard again as quickly, he kept thinking about how composed Roque was and what a mess of a gold Tactus were. The complete opposite, but oh so good. 

A boney thumb stroked off the come on his face, bringing it to his lips. Eagerly, Tactus took it to his mouth and sucked it clean, swallowing down the spend. With hooded eyes, Tactus met Roque’s eyes, a smile shared between them. 

“I should sleep,” Tactus said softly. 

“I will join you, Goodman.”


End file.
